


Jumble

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Memory Loss, Sadness, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 06:18:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10076732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Divergence from "Regarding Dean". MAJOR ANGST.





	

You bolted upright from your chair in the library, where you’d been comfortably surfing online shops for new shoes. The coffee you’d made yourself a half hour earlier shook threateningly as your thighs knocked the leg of the table, making everything on top wobble for a second, before you steadied it with your hands and turned your attention to the noise that had disturbed your peaceful evening.

Dean stormed into the room, panic on his face, his hair dishevelled from sleep, and a plaid flannel shirt thrown on in a haphazard manner – the label poked outwards from where it was inside out. He looked around like an animal in headlights, and you sighed, getting to your feet.

‘Dean?’

He blinked, almost like he’d not seen you, wild green eyes focusing on you as his breathing slowed in pace. ‘Sam’s in trouble.’

Pain lanced through your chest at the thought of the younger Winchester, and you shook your head, holding your hands up with palms vertically flat, your eyes locked on his. ‘Dean –‘

‘Sam’s in trouble!’ He repeated, his entire body almost vibrating as he worked himself back up again. You stepped forward, trying to keep your disposition calm and peaceful, hoping it would influence him. ‘You gotta listen, there’s a  rabbit foot and this woman stole it, and now he’s gonna… ‘ He spoke like he was running out of oxygen, and his words trailed off as tears gathered in his eyes. Clarity seemed to fill him for a second as he stared at you, going completely silent.

You stepped closer, feeling like you were going to cry, like you felt every time this happened. Some days, Dean could be his normal self – he’d joke and laugh, only forgetting the odd small things, like putting on socks. Other days, he didn’t talk, he didn’t do anything but sleep or sit in his room. You knew that was when he remembered everything, and you knew how much that hurt. It was the lasting effect of the spell a witch had cast on him over a year before. Rowena had tried to fix him, and had managed to save his life, but at the cost of her own and Sam’s.

Now, it was just you and the eldest Winchester. Mary had been killed in a stupid training exercise with the British Men Of Letters, who’d promptly tried to recruit you, but you’d refused. Dean didn’t really remember the short time he’d had his mother back, which was almost a balm for you, since you’d disagreed with everything she’d done, including trying to lock her son away to treat him. You’d denied her, kept Dean away from them, and hidden the both of you in the bunker. Neither of you hunted anymore and this was probably as close to a normal life as Dean would ever get – even if he didn’t remember it.

‘Dean?’ You whispered, getting a little closer to him.

‘Sam’s dead,’ he replied, his voice broken. This happened every time, and you couldn’t even fathom how much it must hurt to remember it afresh. It hurt enough to have the constant knowledge that you’d never see your friend again. ‘Sam’s…Sam’s dead.’

Slowly, you nodded, wrapping your hand around his forearm. In that moment, Dean looked lost and broken, like a small child, and you wished you could take away the confusion he was feeling. ‘Sam’s been gone for a year, Dean.’ He didn’t react, his eyes almost losing focus as he processed the information, and you felt your heart constrict in agony at his plight. ‘The rabbit foot was a long time ago.’

‘Before you,’ he mumbled, and you dropped your eyes to the floor, briefly before forcing a smile onto your face.

‘Before me. I’ve only been here a couple of years, remember?’ You prodded, hoping he’d be able to find the memories in the jumble that was his head. ‘I met you on the Wendigo hunt in Louisiana.’

A small smile tugged at his lips. ‘You kicked my ass.’

You couldn’t help the giggle that graced the tense atmosphere of the library, and Dean relaxed a little. ‘I did. Why don’t you come sit down with me?’

‘I can’t,’ he replied, scrubbing a hand through his messy hair. ‘I promised I’d go get Sam, I’m gonna be late.’ Your heart shattered, and you tugged at his arm gently.

‘Dean, we just talked about this.’

He didn’t seem to hear you, and pulled his arm away. ‘Hey, we should go and get a drink. Just the three of us. We never hang out anymore.’ Your shoulders dropped as he turned his back to you, looking around the bunker for something. ‘Where’s Cas?’

‘Cas is… busy,’ you replied, unsure what else to say. The angel popped in on occasion, but he was busy doing the job you and Dean could no longer do – hunting for Lucifer. ‘I can call him, but I don’t know if he’ll answer.’

Dean laughed, shaking his head. ‘Cas doesn’t know how to use a phone. You just pray to him and he, you know, poofs.’

You gave a sad smile, wishing that were the case. ‘Dean, please, come and sit down.’ He looked over at you quizzically. ‘Please? We can watch something, or –‘

‘I’m sorry, who are you?’ He asked, looking at you blankly, and you felt tears prick at your eyes, threatening to fall. ‘Have we met before? Did Sam bring you back here?’ His face dissolved into a leer. ‘I’m sure I’d remember a pretty girl like you.’

And there were the compliments. Before this had all happened, Dean and you flirted, more than was probably healthy. But the life got in the way. Now, when he forgot you, you wished you could blush at a compliment that he thought you were pretty, or beautiful, or sexy, or any number of the phrases he used to describe you.

It mostly just hurt that he didn’t know who you were half the time.

‘I’m Y/N,’ you offered, and Dean brightened. ‘And we’re friends, Dean. You’ll remember in a second.’ He stared at you, the smirk dropping away, and he shook his head. ‘You’re tired,’ you whispered, knowing how this would play out. ‘Come on.’

Dean didn’t resist as you took his hand, leading him away from the library, away from your coffee that would inevitably go cold and have that gross little film over the top of it when you finally threw it down the sink. It wasn’t the first time and it would never be the last.

His bedroom was a mess when you walked in with him behind you, and he didn’t fight you when you made him sit on the bed. Those green eyes were unfocused again, like he was trapped in his own head, probably sifting through messed up memories and timelines that didn’t make sense. For the millionth time, you wished you could take it from him, help him, give him back everything he’d lost.

As you pulled off the inside out shirt, and dropped to your knees to remove his boots, his hand suddenly landed on your shoulder, and you looked up, knowing what was coming next. ‘Will you stay with me?’ He asked, his eyes wet, but clear for a second, pinpointed on you.

You sucked in a breath, gathering all your courage, and nodded up at him. ‘Of course I will, Dean.’ You wanted to add that you’d never leave him; that nothing could stop you from being at his side and taking care of him – he didn’t have anyone else, and you weren’t going to shove him in some institution where he’d be vulnerable and lost. But there was no point reiterating the point. He’d forget in five minutes.

Dean slid under the covers, pulling you close against him the second you were under them too, and you choked back a sob at the thought of everything the both of you had lost. He didn’t seem to notice, content with humming an old song under his breath as he held you tightly in his arms, almost like he was the one comforting you.

Maybe tomorrow would be a better day. Maybe tomorrow, he’d remember more, and you wouldn’t feel like tearing down the walls of the bunker to find a solution. You knew there wasn’t one. Dean Winchester as you’d once known him was gone.

And he wasn’t coming back.

 


End file.
